


What would I be without you? (Nothing but a tool)

by ArthursKnight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (not shown), Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, BDSM, Dom!Alastair, Everything is consensual, Interruption of a scene, M/M, Multi, Self-Hatred, Sub!Dean Winchester, depressive symptoms, dom!Cain, everyone is human AU, slight mention of self-harm, talk of murders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 23:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30046440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthursKnight/pseuds/ArthursKnight
Summary: Dean is not feeling well. After a scene goes wrong, his Doms decide to take care of him and make him feel better.
Relationships: Alastair/Cain/Dean Winchester, Alastair/Dean Winchester, Cain/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5
Collections: SPN Kink Bingo 2021





	What would I be without you? (Nothing but a tool)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a way for me to vent: this work is deeply personal and I feel as Dean does. Except he gets love.  
> I didn't know where this was going, to be honest, but... Well. I decided to submit it for the Supernatural Kink Bingo (Square: Free Space).  
> Hope it gets accepted :) Anyways, you get to read it.
> 
> The characters also decided that this piece was going to be set in one of my very specific AUs, so... Well, sooner rather than later I'll publish more of it, I promise!
> 
> English is not my first language and this work is un-beta'd because I'm an impatient gremlin.

Dean inhaled sharply and forced himself to take more of Alastair’s dick in his throat. Tears prickled in his eyes. His nose pressed against his Dom’s grey curls as Alastair grabbed Dean’s short hair and forced him down.

It had been a terrible idea to agree to a scene. He had no idea what the fuck was wrong with him; he only knew he had to get out of it and please both of his Masters.

Stark naked apart from the collar around his neck and kneeling on the ground, Dean looked at Alastair. He was sprawled on the couch, his head leaning back, and his eyes closed. Soft grunts echoed in the living room as Dean ran his tongue along his length. He kissed the tip and wrapped his wet lips around his Dom’s dick.

“Come on, I know you can do better.”

Dean’s heart sunk, a metaphorical knife stabbing him in the chest. He hollowed his cheeks and swallowed, then licked the hard length. His hand grabbed the base of the cock as he bobbed his head up and down.

The thought of Alastair’s disappointed face made his chest ache; his heart beat too fast against his ribcage. What good was he for if his Doms weren’t happy?

He had the urge to tear at his skin, to make himself bleed; to make Alastair and Cain angry enough they would beat him black and blue. Except the Doms would probably just throw him out.

Internally shaking his head, Dean shifted his position to bring relief to his hard cock and avoid coming too soon; Alastair and Cain’s pleasure came first, always.

He wanted to do better, be better. He just couldn’t, and he knew he would get hell for it. He was nothing but a failure, a broken tool.

Behind them, Cain hummed in appreciation. Dean’s other Master sat at the dining table, preparing the toys for later. The submissive had seen the various vibrators and Cain’s favorite wooden cane, which he only used when he wanted to get Dean deep into his space.

Dean was certain he would screw that up; he was nothing but a worthless failure. That’s why everyone left him.

He stopped breathing, his eyes going wide; fear rolled in his stomach, a whimper leaving his lips, and his body shook violently.

They would leave him. And he could do nothing to stop them.

Tears fell down his cheeks. He forced his hand to stay still.

Alastair seemed to sense the tension and petted his head, looking at Dean with his icy blue irises. Running his hand along Dean’s cheek, the Dom raised an eyebrow. His voice was rough, with a hint of curiosity, when he spoke.

“Dean, are you alright?”

Dean gulped and nodded, his Master’s dick still in his mouth. He didn’t want to admit he was on edge, uncomfortable. That would mean an even greater failure on his part. Since his mother died, Dean had been nothing but a tool. For his father. His brother. And now Alastair and Cain. If the tool broke or didn’t work anymore, you got rid of it.

The thought made Dean want to weep and beg.

Fixing his attention on getting Alastair off, he half-closed his eyes and speeded up the pace. His saliva mixed with the salty taste of the other man’s skin. Dean swirled his tongue around the head and the shaft, licking off the pre-cum and swallowing it.

“Dean.” Cain got up from his seat and knelt next to the younger man. He frowned, his long lashes shadowing his dark blue eyes. “We know you. Why are you shaking like a leaf?”

The submissive inhaled; he wanted to lie and say he was alright, but he knew the truth was expected of him. No matter what he was going to say, he was going to get punished. Lying was going to get him a red ass that wouldn’t allow him to sit for days, maybe even a few slaps. The truth, the fact he was broken and couldn’t do his only job, would get him far worse.

His muscles tightened as Dean forced himself to be still. He stared at Cain, his eyes twitching with the need to let everything out.

Alastair pulled him away, making him let go of his dick. A trail of saliva parted from Dean’s lips and fell on the ground, a tangible proof of Dean’s failure.

Both his Masters’ full attention was on him, their gazes burning holes in Dean’s body.

Tightening his jaw, the Sub bowed his head. Tears burned in his eyes and freely ran down his cheeks as he let out a strangled whimper.

Dammit.

“Safeword,” Cain growled.

“No! I can do it.”

“Dean.” A warning from Alastair, his jaw tight. “We make the rules. Say it.”

“Please, I’ll do anything,” Dean sobbed, looking down. He dropped his shoulders, hugging himself. “Don’t get rid of me. Please.”

Strong hands grabbed him and pulled him on the soft couch. Hiding in Alastair’s chest, Dean let himself go and cried his eyes out.

He was an idiot.

Now they would tell him to beat it and he could do nothing about it.

Alastair’s stubble scratched Dean’s forehead as the man leaned down to brush his lips on his head. Cain sat on Dean’s other side and grabbed the back of Dean’s neck, squeezing it; at that, the submissive let out a shaky breath. Dean fixed his attention on the warmth of Cain’s fingers, the pressure on his skin as he leaned into the touch.

Both men hugged him, staying as close as possible.

“We would never get rid of you, Dean,” Cain reasoned. Not moving, Dean imagined him frowning. “Why do you think that?”

Dean shook his head, a knot in his throat making him unable to speak.

The warmth of the bodies around him brought small comfort, even though usually he needed their touch as he needed air. It was like he was outside of his body, far away from the soothing touches on his skin.

Dean was empty. Hollow.

He had ruined everything, as usual. Forcing himself to speak, Dean let out a whisper.

“I’m so fucking worthless…” He regretted saying it out loud. It seemed pathetic. Pulling himself upwards, Dean pushed against Alastair’s hold. “I am sorry.”

The Dom tightened his grip until Dean gave up and relaxed. With his ear pressed against Alastair’s chest, Dean listened to the quiet beat of his heart.

“You know we don’t like when you apologize without reason,” Alastair hummed, his long fingers tracing the soft skin of Dean’s belly. “Now, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I…” Uncertain, the young man eyed Cain; the second Dom kissed his cheek, his longish hair brushing against his face.

“My heart, we’re here for you. I know we can be assholes,” he stared at Alastair, his blue eyes hard, “but I can assure you we care about you.”

“That’s a lie,” Dean sneered.

Alastair grabbed his face, squeezing it, and forced him to look into his eyes.

“Don’t you dare.” The Dom’s face was more serious than Dean had ever seen; it was almost scary, seeing him like this. “You don’t get to decide how we feel. We love you, no matter how much I dislike admitting it.”

“I’m sorry.” Fresh tears streamed down Dean’s cheeks. His whole body shook as he tried to stop sniffling and gulping. “It’s just... I feel like… every single time people say they care. And then they go away and leave me behind after they’ve used me.” His vision blurry with tears, Dean closed his eyes.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

Why couldn’t he just shut the hell up?

Behind him, Cain sighed.

“We can’t promise it will never happen,” Dean stilled, those words like knives. Still, he forced himself to keep listening, “but I can assure you we don’t plan to leave. We want you with us.”

“Cain is right,” Alastair let go of Dean’s face, caressing it. “We want you. We can’t control the future nor know what will happen, but we can work with what we have, mh?”

Dean nodded and stared into a far point.

No reason in fighting them. He just knew they wouldn’t understand his pain. Or him.

He wished they had hit him. He would have welcomed the new bruises like he had the ones his father had given him. Or the self-harm cuts. This was worse.

“I guess.”

“Is there something else bugging you?” Cain’s gentle words and his hand pressing against his back soothed him, somehow. “Tell us.”

“I just…” Dean snorted, wiping away some of the tears and dropping his shoulders. “I’m just a broken tool. I’m useless. I-I shouldn’t have agreed today... But I wanted to be useful to you.”

“You’re not a tool,” the Dom took him from Alastair’s arms and hugged him. “You’re a person. And we should’ve seen you’re not feeling well.”

“But-”

“But nothing, Dean.” Alastair hummed, as if thinking of his next words. “Cain is right. I think today we should take care of you differently, mh?”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, hating how unsure he sounded. This was not what he expected.

“You think we don’t love you.”

Dean shrugged, cracking his knuckles one by one to calm himself.

It was true. He didn’t believe someone could actually love him, especially not Alastair and Cain. Sometimes, he felt like he wasn’t meant to be loved. And he accepted it, because he couldn’t do anything else.

“I think we may have done a terrible mistake. We made you feel like we were using you just for sex,” Alastair sighed. “I, uhm, admit I’m not good with feelings. But I should’ve done better.”

Dean raised a brow; he wondered if he was dreaming.

“You’re getting soft in your old age, Al?” He joked, an automatic reaction he was trying to leave behind. A long way to go.

“Oh, shush.”

Cain laughed, then sobered up.

“I agree. We should’ve done better.”

“So? I don’t understand…” Dean frowned and blinked, his gaze darting between his partners. They looked sure of themselves, as if they were thinking the same thing.

“We’re going to take today to relax, uhm?” Alastair ran his hand through Dean’s hair, massaging his scalp; the younger man bit his bottom lip, a small grunt leaving his lips.

“And what, go get an ice cream and take a walk in the park?” Dean rolled his eyes. “You hate going outside, Al.”

“I’m, uhm, ready to make an exception if that’s what if you want.”

Dean’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“You heard me. Is that what you want?” Alastair looked at him with a small smile. Usually, he was extremely sarcastic. Cruel, even. The fact that the older man had offered to do something he hated stirred something in Dean that he couldn’t identify.

“N-no,” Dean shook his head. “Can we stay home?”

“We can do anything you want, love,” Cain assured.

“Uh…” That was a first. For the most part, other people decided for him.

“What do you say we wash up and think about it?”

Dean nodded slowly. He was so tired of feeling this worthless. His whole body ached because of the tension in his muscles. He didn’t really want to feel hope again; he knew it would be crushed over and over, just like the previous times.

Still, he found himself wanting to try.

“Okay.”

“I’ll go start a bath,” Alastair got up and, as he walked to the bathroom, Dean’s gaze couldn’t help but linger on the man’s naked form. He strolled as if he owned the world, his muscles evident even if not refined. As if knowing Dean needed to be able to see and sense him, the Dom didn’t close the door.

“C’mon,” Cain held him as he brought him to the kitchen and gave him a fluffy blanket to hold onto. “Sit. I’m going to make you some tea. Okay?”

Dean nodded and wrapped himself in the blanket. Sitting down at the table, he let his thoughts wander. He had no idea why Al and Cain hadn’t thrown him out, why they still bothered with him. Even if his mom had died when he was only four, he remembered how his father made his mother feel. How their marriage was far from happy. Screaming matches, most often ending with Dean consoling his mother as his dad went away. Dean always expected that to be the kind of relationship he would get. Alastair and Cain were proving him wrong. They never yelled at him. Their calm was terrifying, at times. Even now, they were trying to make him feel better.

Tears prickled in his eyes and ran down his cheeks.

“Dean,” Cain knelt by his side, a streaming cup of honeyed tea in his hand. “What is it?”

Dean sniffled. Licking his lips, he tried to find a good answer.

“Just… Thank you. For being so patient.” He took the offered cup and blew on it, the warmth spreading in his fingers.

“We really do care about you, Dean,” the older man smiled softly. “We want to take care of you well. Besides, you’re patient with us too.”

Dean snorted, laughter bubbling his chest.

“I mean… You can be idiots, sometimes.” He drank his tea, humming in pleasure and flexing his toes.

“And we’re serial-killers. Yet, you keep up with our bullshit,” Cain caressed his face tenderly. “We never wanted you to keep being one as well. You know that, right?”

Dean shrugged.

“My dad made sure I didn’t know how to be anything else.”

He had asked his father about it when he was four. Why he had killed a man in front of him. His dad didn’t really give him an answer. Just taught him how to do it.

“I just… I want to make sure you understand that we’re grateful you decided to stay with us.” The other man put his hands on Dean’s knees. “Loving you makes me feel like I’m still human.”

Dean kissed Cain’s forehead.

“Yeah, yeah…”

Alastair entered the kitchen, wearing a pair of clean short boxers.

“Bath’s ready, if you want…”

“’kay.”

Dean left the cup on the table and followed the other two men to the bathroom.

The bath tube was steaming, his favorite apple pie-scented body wash creating bubbles in the water. Some bath bombs sat on the edge, ready to be chosen.

The younger man smirked.

“Thank you, Al,” he wrapped his arms around the taller man and accepted his help to get into the tube. Groaning in pleasure, Dean closed his eyes and lowered himself in the water until only his head was out of it. “You fucking spoil me.”

“That I do,” Alastair hummed, his long fingers finding Dean’s locks. “Is the water ok?”

“Yeah,” Dean looked at him through his lashes. His aching muscles relaxed slightly thanks to the heat, and he found himself extending his soapy arm; his voice was small and unsure as he asked: “Hold my hand?”

Alastair and Cain both sat at the edge of the bath tube; the first rook Dean’s hand gently as the second retrieved the shampoo from the rack.

“Spoiled brat,” Alastair joked. “Let Cain wet your hair, uhm?”

As his partner washed his hair, Dean let himself enjoy the attention.

Cain parted his locks with unusual care, the water cooling Dean’s head. Sighing in pleasure, the younger man bit his bottom lip.

The flow of the overhead relaxed his sense; he fixed his attention on the pressure on his face and scalp.

“You know, Dean,” Alastair’s words made him look up. The older man caressed the back of his hand with his thumb, taking a long breath. “I was thinking that, maybe, we need a pause.”

The water stopped as Cain used the solid shampoo on Dean’s hair, rubbing it on his scalp.

“A pause?”

“Yes,” Alastair tilted his head. “We’re always, uhm, quite busy. Either with our work or with our… projects.”

“You love carving with your razor, Al.” Dean blinked, unsure. When Alastair killed people, it was pure art. None of them were surprised when the police had started calling ‘Picasso with a razor’. The pigs still couldn’t understand how and why he seemed to work with two other killers, though. Imbeciles. “Hell, I think you enjoy it more than your day job!”

“I do,” the man confirmed. “But I think we need some rest and quiet from it all. A… family vacation?”

“I’d like that,” Cain put the shampoo bar away and started to wash it off of Dean. “Away from people and noise, if possible.”

“So, it’s settled, uhm?”

“Can we go to the beach? I’ve never been…” Dean already imagined the sand in between his toes. He used his best puppy eyes.

Alastair shrugged.

“Why not? I’ll start looking tomorrow.”

“Yes!” Dean beamed, a bright smile spreading on his face. “Love you.”

“We love you too.”

Dean splashed some water against Alastair, laughing. Settling back, he yawned. His limbs heaved, all energy drained away from him. He didn’t know if it was the emotional rollercoaster or something else, but he felt extremely tired.

“Can we go nap? Please?”

“Sure thing, my heart,” Cain smiled.

The two men got him out of the tube and wrapped him in a fluffy robe. Dean’s tired brain didn’t register them drying him, only warmth and care and soft touches.

He found himself in his pyjamas and under the duvets. His lovers wrapped their arms around him. Sighing happily, Dean succumbed to sleep.

Maybe he could be convinced he was loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? No? Do tell!  
> Please consider leaving comments and/or kudos :)
> 
> If you want to talk to me more, feel free to get in touch with me on Tumblr at @demonicsoulmates


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